I have lost control.
My world revolves around the ungodly.
With my own hand as my tool, I meet with the Devil.

Consumed by the Hunger for Starvation,
I strive to rid my body of what relinquished nutrition remains

Hand shakes
Throat burns
Eyes, brim with tears
Body faint

over and over
Nothing left to rid.

Do you fault me for my relief?
It is the secret everyone knows, the secret in which no action lies.

"Of course I know, but I will pretend that I don't care if that is what you want"

Will it truly get worse before it can get better?